DCS (Re: Jargon Coin: Bubble-Hangover)

[Gary Lawrence Murphy]

>>>>> "S" == Stephen D Williams <sdw@lig.net> writes:

    S> Bubble-Hangover:

    S> The aftereffects of working for, starting, running, or
    S> investing time, money, and resources in a Bubble-Era Internet
    S> Startup.  These effects include drastic loss of net worth (or
    S> gain of debt), burnout, need for stability, and sometimes a
    S> loss of interest in computer technology.

Geez, what's it called when it enters it's third decade? Chronic
BS Fatigue Syndrome?  I'm still in recovery over the mid-80's bubble.

    I'm looking for a vehicle, I'm looking for a ride
    I'm looking for a party, I'm looking for a side
    I'm looking for the treason that I knew in '65
    Beware the sound mixture of 1984
    Come see, come see, remember me?
    We played love all my movie roll
    You said it would last, but I guess we've grown
    In 1984, who could ask for more

Every time a contract is done, finally fait complete, wrapped up,
signed sealed delivered and in the can (like right now) I start to
meander through the pleas to own me outright.  Do they _really_ think
anyone stupid enough to believe a tenth of their HR BS would make even
a semi adequate employee?  Why are they _all_ so afraid of being
honest? (ok, maybe not all, but a good 99.99% because 5-nines is a
myth)

    And the streets are full of brass men,
    bent on getting hung and buried
    And the legendary curtains are drawn 'round baby bankrupt,
    who sucks you while you're sleeping
    It's the theater of financiers,
    count them, fifteen 'round the table,
    white and dressed to kill

Why do I do it? I don't know: Mostly I just get mad, mercilessly
berate a few headhunters ("plays well with others" never appears in my
resume) and go slam my fingers in the car door in penance.

    All the way from Washington
    Her breadwinner begs of the bathroom floor
    "We live for just these twenty years
    Do we have to die for the fifty more"

Yeah, I've succumbed a few times, but each time, just /after/ I sign
the BS-sheet (ahem, er, "employment contract") it's like, y'know when
just _after_ you take that next hit of acid and the back of your whole
jaw suddenly screams out "you didn't want to do this anymore"?

    In the year of the scavenger, season of the bitch
    Sashay on the board-walk, scurry to the ditch
    Just another future song, lonely little Keats
    There's gonna be sorrow, try and wake up tomorrow

And then, whether as employee or contractor, after each contract
(which, since '78, I've always sworn will be my last) I tally the
debts, shovel the garbage from the office floor, salve the ego burns,
get my eyes checked, pick up the shattered shards of my personal life
and lo, yes, the very last thing on earth that interests me is
anything to do with geeky misgadgetry, buzzword phallicies and
hype-head technology.

And then ... I get an idea ... and ... well ... what if ... hmmm ...
ooo ... yes ... yes baby, YES!

Hmmm ... Maybe it should be called Digital Co-dependence Syndrome.